


Freedom Is Overrated

by SkyTurtle



Category: A Heist With Markiplier, A Heist With Markiplier (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Study, Gender-neutral Reader, Mentions of Violence, Other, Prison, Swearing, Universe Alteration, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-07
Updated: 2019-11-07
Packaged: 2021-01-24 18:42:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21342919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkyTurtle/pseuds/SkyTurtle
Summary: Yancy didn't think of it as being locked in, he thought of it as the world being locked out.--"I got a trash pedigree.But in here I’m bourgeoisie!I never think about the world beyond.then I’d recall how I killed my mom."
Relationships: Yancy (A Heist With Markiplier) & Reader
Kudos: 59





	Freedom Is Overrated

Yancy was was seventeen when he first came to Happy Trails Penitentiary, having spent the better part of his sixteenth year being shoved between jailhouses, courtrooms, criminal asylums and social service offices. That time had mostly been a blur to him. A whirlwind of judgmental faces with no names attached to them. He'd been asked countless times to explain what happened. Cops, lawyers, shrinks, even the damn judge himself, it felt like the whole world wanted to know what the hell he did and why.

He'd answered them all with the restraint expected of a homicidal teenager. He growled and screamed and spat in their faces. It's not like any of them cared, no one did. They said it themselves, their only job was to “pass judgment”.

Never once did he make a secret of what he did. He killed his mom and that damn boyfriend of hers that made Yancy call him “dad”. Shot and choked to death respectfully. Well, maybe not so _respectfully_ when it came to dear old dad. They were both dead, at any rate. As for the why, that was simple as well. He was tired. Tired of dad's bruising hands and his perverted friends, and tired of mom always saying that she'd take of him but never being there to save him. He was tired of living in shithole that was covered in mold, rats and roaches. Tired of never having enough to eat. Tired of the fights with the neighbor kids. Tired of everything. His rage has festered and grown under his skin his entire life until it finally boiled over that night.

But Happy Trails Penitentiary was something different. He hadn't warmed up to it instantly, he was too angry for that. He was too wild, snarling and bucking at the entire world around him as a matter of principal. It was the other prisoners who had done it. Many of them simply gave him a wide berth, thinking it best to leave the angry teen by himself, but a few others did take the time to talk to him. It took nearly two years for Yancy to admit that they had become his friends. They were patient with him, took his acidic humor in stride and weren't shy about telling him when he was acting out of line. One of them in particular must have been a saint to tolerate him so well. Everyone called him Jukebox for his tendency to hum all the damn time.

Yancy watched Jukebox come in and out prison at least five times. He was insistent that he'd be a free man someday, but every time he left he got brought back. He had nowhere to go out there, no way of finding work, so he kept falling back on his thieving habit to get by which only brought him back to Happy Trails. The day Jukebox came in still recovering from a bullet wound in his leg was the day that Yancy decided that freedom was overrated.

The therapist he saw every two months insisted that being reintroduced to society should be his goal, but he'd had enough. He hadn't liked what he'd seen of the world in his first sixteen years of life and what he could see from his view in prison wasn't much better. He'd much rather spend his life here than gamble on freedom. Over the years he gained quite a reputation among the people of Happy Trails.

A few called him deluded, but most could at least understand his perspective. As time went by he'd even formed what many would consider a “gang” of inmates. A group of people who decided to stay. Some shared his outlook, others simply knew they had nowhere else to go. They were a family. A thoroughly fucked up family of scumbags, criminals, and murderers, but it was the best family that Yancy had ever known.

Then you came along. After Mark was hospitalized and Yancy made his introduction you were welcomed into his family with open arms. Yancy hadn't been prepared for you though. He hadn't expected you to befriend him so easily. He hadn't expected you to not only take his angry and violent outbursts in stride but to also walk him through them. When the wild emotions came and he would yell and lash out you would soothe him with kind words make sense of the feelings.

It wasn't an easy process. Coming to prison had been the beginning of a new life to Yancy, and facing emotions from his “dead” self wasn't something he was prepared for. It took time and many false starts before he admitted how much his past had hurt him to himself, and even longer to admit it to you. It was one of the many nights that he had snuck into your room for a late chat. You still didn't know how he managed to get around without notice, but it didn't seem to matter much. Yancy spoke quietly, as if scared that hearing his own words may hurt him.

“Outside is the life I left behind the day I killed my ma and dad. Youse that wanna go back are just reminders to me. I haven't been locked in, the world has been locked _out_.”

It was the beginning of a long recovery. He started talking at least a little more openly with his therapist, and you were there to help him when the emotions hurt too much. Yancy didn't think it was possible to change, but you managed to surprise him at every turn. But you couldn't stay. You had a life out there, something that you fought for. Yancy saw that in you, knew you wanted out even when you pretended otherwise. So he lead you out. He blindfolded you with the promise of a pleasant surprise only to lead you directly out the front gate. He'd neither let you back in or himself out.

“Nah, good and shining things like youse don't belong here. Me, uh... Well, maybe next time parole comes around. We'll see... Youse come visit though! Every third Sunday is visitation!”

He didn't actually expect you to visit. In the entire time Yancy had been at Happy Trails he'd never once had a real visitor. But you really came. “Wow. Youse... Youse really took the time to visit a con like me? I mean, I know we had some good times in here, but I figured youse would have better things to do.”

And you kept visiting. Every third Sunday like clockwork. Maybe... Just maybe parole wasn't such a bad idea. He could always find a way to get put back in if things went poorly. But Yancy had a feeling that things might not be as awful as he thought. After all, if you were out there that meant there was at least one good thing to reach for.

**Author's Note:**

> Oops, I impulsively wrote and posted a fic in only a few hours. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Comments always welcome!


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